AMANDA YOUNG ESCAPE
by Baddvantage
Summary: This is the story of Amanda Young, and her escape from the largest, and most painful trap she ever encountered. It takes place right after the end of Saw 3. It references events that were in the Saw 3 script, but not actual movie.


**AMANDA YOUNG - THE REAL ENDING2/26/2007**

**by Adam Alberts & Elizabeth Ray**

She couldn't sleep.

She lay sprawled on the bed, blankets tossed aside, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor beside the bed. Her eyes burned from crying; her cheeks were still wet. The room, her world, was silent, besides sniffles and the shallow breathing that accompanies a sad sobbing.

She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and hiding her face in her hands. She was absolutely exhausted; she hadn't been able to sleep for days now. She was sure that any sort of sleep would be a release, an escape, even if it was only for a few precious hours. At this point, she wouldn't have even cared if she was plagued by nightmares; hell, even _they _would be a welcome distraction.

She looked around her bedroom, looking for something - _anything_ that could momentarily catch her attention. But there was nothing. Nothing big enough to displace the feeling. She was alone, again…..alone, lost and crying. It seemed like that was all she could do now, was cry. And still the other side of the bed remained empty, cold and untouched.

She reached out and ran her fingers lightly along the pillow, feeling the silky smooth fabric beneath her finger tips. She was sure if she laid her head down against it, she could still smell _her_, a mix of vanilla and lilac. Vanilla from her shampoo, lilac from her perfume.

Amanda felt fresh tears spring to her eyes, and she shook her head, eyes shut tight, not wanting to let them fall. She pushed herself off the bed, feeling upset and angry and embarrassed all at once.

She stood at the window and looked down onto the streets, still slick from the rain earlier in the day. How many times had she stood by this window and looked out at the world? Often Lynn would come up behind her and wrap her arms loosely around her waist, resting her chin on Amanda's shoulder. She would say, _Mandy, come back to me. Come back to my world._

Even now she could hear Lynn's voice, and she felt pained, like a shard of glass was digging into her soul.

She put her forehead against the cool glass and sobbed gently, too weak and tired to fight the tears anymore. She stood there for a while, simply crying softly, her tears dripping from her cheeks and falling silently to the floor.

She had never showed these emotions whenever she was actually around Lynn, during any of the times that they had shared together. Lynn probably never even knew how important she really was in the younger girl's life. Amanda didn't know, either, not until now….when it's too late.

Amanda had thought she would always have this love by her side, and never imagined it would be such a big deal to mess with her a little. It had really just been a little test. Amanda had never experienced any such affection, before. At least, nothing of this magnitude. She was too fragile, on the inside. Her heart was made of glass, having already been cracked by others in the past, but it still had substance. It wouldn't be able to survive another hit, however, without shattering…..so she had to test Lynn a bit, first.

It wasn't so wrong was it? _Of course it was. If you had just gone on and lived your life with Lynn, like you really truly wanted, none of this would have happened. _

_Just gone on and lived my life? WHAT life? Working at that fucking hospital!!??? I didn't HAVE a life!!_

She felt so empty and she hated that feeling, hated knowing that the emptiness would never again be filled. And it was all because of her; this whole fucking mess was because of her. Why couldn't she have been strong? Why did she have to fuck _everything_ up? Oh, God, now _everything_ that had ever mattered to her was gone.

And here she was, crying, feeling so fucking sorry for herself, when there was no one to blame _but_ herself. She was the one who pulled the trigger, she was the one who failed.

And why? Because she was fucking jealous. Jealous of the woman whom she had loved.

Lynn had everything Amanda didn't - _but, oh, John, no_ - and that was why Amanda had been jealous. John had been the one thing, the only thing, that Amanda had had in this world aside from Lynn. And then, to see Lynn with him, to see how he _cared_ for Lynn, wanted her to survive - _how_ was that fair? Hadn't she given everything to him, promised to give him every cell in her body?

Hadn't that been enough?

And Lynn had everything. She was kind, pretty, smart. Calm. Innocent…..and Amanda had been jealous.

_THAT'S why you shot her? Because you're jealous? She LOVED you! You STUPID BITCH! SHE LOVED-_

"SHUT UP!!!! FUCK!!!" She screamed at herself - into the silence - amidst sobs.

Oh, God. Even now Amanda could feel the gun in her hand, the cold metal clutched tightly in her injured hand….she could feel its weight, dull and heavy. The scene kept playing itself out, again and again in her head, as she pulled the trigger and shot the one person she had loved above all else.

She felt sick.

_Alone, _she thought. Now, and for as long as she lived.

_As long as she lived…_

She seemed to always manage to lose the people around her, be it family, friends, or more. Was it her fault? There MUST be something wrong with her, she thought, as she gazed blankly through the glass window. The sky was grey, the streets empty and quiet.

_I can't do this_

She had always had the spirit of a fighter. Those who crossed her, paid dearly. Troy, Detective Matthews, and most of all, Jeff. It was HIM who stripped John and Lynn from her life.

_No….this is YOUR fault, bitch…..just like everything else._

She bit her bottom lip….hard. Yea, it was her fault….but Jeff paid for it. God, did he pay for it.

She'd shot Jeff, later. She didn't know how long she had been passed out for, but it must have been several hours. And when she staggered to her feet, clutching her wound, she'd almost thrown up. She could still see John lying in his hospital bed, throat cut - _John, what_ - with blood still slowly seeping from the gash. And Lynn - _Oh, Lynn, please, no_ - or what was left of her for that matter, her pretty face blown away completely,

Jeff had been in the corner, sobbing miserably, like a baby. Amanda hadn't even said a word, hadn't even allowed herself to think. She'd simply raised that gun and taken aim, emptying the rest of the cartridge into the man's body. She showed him no mercy. He didn't _deserve_ mercy.

She went once more to her bed, sitting down on the edge of it, feeling very tired and sad. She took Lynn's pillow and put her face against it, the fabric growing damp from her tears…..her only shoulder to cry on. She wished more than anything that Lynn was here right now. All she wanted to do was hold her and be held back, like before….before all the anger and the tests. Before everything had just become sex; rough, hard, and emotionless.

And now…there was nothing. There wasn't even a chance to take everything back, to go back to the way things used to be. Lynn was gone now, really truly gone.

The thought was too much to bear.

But oh, Jeff, she'd made him pay for taking Lynn away from her. She smirked, thinking of the look on the cop's faces when they finally found his body - _fucking bastard_. _I'll make you pay - _and how they'd see just what kind of wrath she had. Nobody fucked with Amanda Young. Not ever. Yes, they'd see that. Just wait until the cops find him.

But then the smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared. _The fucking cops._ Of course, she'd forgotten all about them. They would find the warehouse, eventually, and they would be able to pin it on her. She'd get locked away….they would lock her up and throw away the key.

Alone, a failure, worthless…..forever….AND spending it in jail….AGAIN?!

She couldn't go back to prison. She'd rather die.

She glanced over at her dresser across the room, the small metal box sitting pointedly on top of it.

_Go ahead, quit. Doesn't matter, who's going to miss you then? No one….you're worthless._

"I know…", she said to herself, low, almost a whisper mixed with sniffles. She stood and walked purposefully over to the dresser. She stared down at the box, trying to will herself not to open it.

John had been right. She was a waste. If she had never escaped that very first trap, the beautiful doctor would still be alive. She deserved to be alive, much more than Amanda did. She remembered that first trap, the machine on her head….it would never completely fade from her mind….the ticking, incessant in the back of her head. Tick, tick, tick….it never went away. Counting down the seconds what were almost the final seconds of her life.

Still wasn't strong enough; she pushed back the clasp that held the small box shut.

_This is it_, she thought to herself, opening an array of items that she had become all too familiar with. She had always gone to the box, for help. Usually, the pain would be a relief….a release. But now….now she just wanted to end the pain - the charade that was her life. Not even a life, really….but what was it, then?

_It's nothing, that's what._

She looked at herself in the mirror above her dresser. The image in the glass appeared lifeless; grey, empty, and quiet.

The razor lay inside the box, blade glinting dully in the afternoon daylight.

She ran her fingers along it, feeling the cool metal beneath her fingertips, and the sensation was oddly comforting.

_You killed her…you deserve this. You loved her, and she had loved you._

With fading strength, she set the open box on the side of the bed, and took out the roll of gauze before trudging over to the window. She depressingly dragged her feet as she walked. She opened the window just a bit, enough to toss out the cloth roll, onto the world below. She wouldn't need it today.

She sat down on the corner of the bed.. Just about out of tears now, she was trembling….lifeless, and out of hope.

Amanda shivered, and extended an arm out, cautiously. She could already picture herself dragging the blade along her arm: down the highway, not across the street, as the kids in high school always used to say. She could see the blood, dark and light all at once - _my God, so red, all of it red_ - could feel it running warm down her forearms, could hear the soft, dull splashes as it dripped onto the floor.

It would be so easy; she had cut before, a thousand times. It would be just like when John had her do it. Only this time, she'd press down just a tiny bit harder, and drag it down, not across.

And he wouldn't be here to save her when she was done.

She drew her right hand up and pressed the blade gently against her opposite arm, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. The ticking….the ticking was so loud. It was too much to bear. This is what it had all come down to, sitting in her desolate apartment, about to spill her blood on the white cotton sheets, faded and worn with age.

The blade cut into her arm smoothly, leaving behind a thin red line as blood welled up neatly in the cut. it quickly began to spill out though, dripping down her arms without cease. She gasped at the pain, forgetting how much it had hurt in the past.

She bit her tongue, hard, as she endured the pain, slowly cutting through the skin. She cut again and again - _don't think, just cut_….now all she could see was blood; thick, warm, and crimson. Blood _everywhere._

Her tongue bled now, as well, between her teeth. Her shaking hand sliding along.

She noticed the blood forming on the carpet beneath her. This time there was much more than she's used to seeing. She finished her work, dropping the blade, as it clanged against the corner post of the bed.

The blood wasn't stopping, and her head began to hurt a little, actually slightly drowning out the ticking. _It's finally going away, _she thought. Slowly, drearily, her eyes moved across the open box, stopping at the empty spot that was usually occupied by the gauze.

_This is actually happening_, she thought, almost surprised.

Amanda collapsed back into the bed, already feeling to weak, reaching out for Lynn's pillow. Her fingers only just brushed against the edge; she tried again.

She felt her fingers grip the soft material, and she pulled the object towards her. She cradled it against her body, smelling lilac and vanilla. Single small, dying tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

She remembered after she'd shot Jeff, falling to her knees and bowing in front of Lynn's body. Oh, God, she wanted to touch her and feel warmth; but Lynn was cold, cold and bloody. And _gone._ She had put her head to Lynn's chest and tried to hold her _- Lynn, back please_ - but the doctor's body was limp and heavy.

Amanda went to stand up from the bed, but she collapsed, in a heap, on the carpet. She tried to crawl, only for a moment…..but she was feeling much too weak for that. She figured she'd just lie there for a little while. Looking down at her arm, covered in blood, from elbow to hand. The red fingers reminded her of the rough, bloody sexcapades with Lynn, when she would plead with Amanda to stop, resulting only in the younger woman purging on harder. She should have listened to her more, and never hurt the beautiful, amazing doctor…the only true lover she ever had.

_I'm so sorry, Lynn….I love you._

She could barely see straight now; the world was growing darker with each passing second. The memory of her lover suddenly seemed so blurry and mixed up, like trying to see the whole picture of an only half-completed puzzle.

Amanda rested her head down on the carpet, the tears now drained down her cheek. She gazed blurrily at her red, blood soaked hand, the puddle on the floor. It was just like that night, that very first trap of John's. Getting the key, her hands were covered in blood that day, too, when she had saved her own life and John was there to help her start all over.

But there was no one waiting now. John was not standing outside the door waiting for her to pass her test. Lynn was not crying on the bed, waiting for Amanda to finally say that she loved her.

She was really tired now, unable to keep her teary eyes open. It was getting very hard to breathe, her lungs actually gasping for air. She knew by the trembling of her own body that she wouldn't open her eyes again.

There was only the darkness.

She remembered when she last felt like this, back at home, as a little kid, when her father had left her, crying and afraid in the dark. She had been helpless then, helpless and alone, just as she was now.

_I'm sorry, daddy…._

The ticking was fading and fading from her mind, and in a few moments it was all gone.

Amanda had finally escaped her hardest trap of all.


End file.
